The Night Staffer

By Chris Polaschek

Wyatt starts work as a night staffer at the local Boy’s Home. He hopes it may be a stepping stone to a career as a social worker.

Fifteen-year-old petty offender Jai is taken to the Home after he is caught for a burglary that goes horribly wrong. Wyatt, who processes his admission, is the first staff member Jai meets.

Wyatt is an accomplished musician and most nights, once the boys are in bed, he sits in the night staff office and plays the guitar. It can be heard from the dormitories and helps to keep the boys settled. Jai also plays the guitar and he is intrigued when he hears his favourite tune Shuffle Rag. He sees an opportunity to learn it.

The two eventually form a bond around their shared love of music.

The Boys Home is a dynamic, volatile, and challenging environment. Both Jai and Wyatt need to find their place and learn how to survive.

As time passes, they experience a series of events that will significantly shape their futures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jul 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398461963

Chris Polaschek

Chris started his career working on the floor in residential care as a night staffer, social worker, and supervisor. He formed a lifelong passion for the work. After ten years he moved to the Public Prison Service, managing education, health and therapeutic programmes for the Wellington region’s three prisons, eventually managing Mount Crawford Prison. Chris returned to the Welfare System to become Manager of Operations for the country’s Youth Justice Residences. He progressed to other senior roles in Youth Justice, eventually becoming the General Manager.

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About the Author

Chris started his career working on the floor in residential care as a night staffer, social worker, and supervisor. He formed a lifelong passion for the work.

After ten years he moved to the Public Prison Service, managing education, health and therapeutic programmes for the Wellington region’s three prisons, eventually managing Mount Crawford Prison.

Chris returned to the Welfare System to become Manager of Operations for the country’s Youth Justice Residences. He progressed to other senior roles in Youth Justice, eventually becoming the General Manager.

Dedication

For my family, Debra, Amelia, Mat and Heather whose support and tolerance enabled me to have an interesting and successful career, and to write this book.

And for the staff and young people everywhere who spend time in residential care.

Copyright Information ©

Chris Polaschek 2023

The right of Chris Polaschek to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398461956 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398461963 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

20230727

Acknowledgement

I want to thank Amelia and Debra for the considerable time spent helping me with editing this book.

Mat for his contribution to the cover design.

Heather for her ever-present interest and support over the two years I worked on this.

Part 1

New Beginnings: July 1987

Chapter 1

Wyatt’s First Night

We ascend a dimly illuminated stairwell. Dark stained rimu wooden panelling on the walls contributes to the gloom. It smells of varnish and age. There’s a faint hum coming from the floor above. It increases as we turn the last corner, becoming identifiable as a mixture of movement and chatter. John Land, senior social worker and my new boss is leading the way. We emerge onto a brightly lit landing and I catch my first glimpse of the boys I will be working with through an open doorway to my right, a mass of blue and white pyjamas. Before I can see more, we turn sharply left and I’m ushered into a small office. A young man dressed in a brown tracksuit with yellow striped edging is seated at a desk writing furiously. He is hunched over concentrating and all I can see is the back of his head and his long black ponytail which hangs down below the top of the chair. He does not look up as we enter but continues with his task.

John says to him, ‘Gwynne, this is Wyatt Novak. He’s the new night staffer. First night!’

Gwynne mutters something I can’t hear, it may have been a greeting. ‘Hi Gwynne,’ I say, just in case.

‘This is the night staff kingdom!’ John waves his arm in an expansive semi-circle identifying the pokey untidy little room barely big enough to swing a cat in.

‘Welcome, welcome, welcome! Brian Greene, we all call him Ted, will be here shortly. I know he’s somewhere on the premises, probably doing his checks. How’s that paperwork going, Gwynne, are you nearly finished?’

‘Just about. What will I say about Aaron Lamas?’ Gwynne is of Welch stock from the sounds of his accent.

‘Settled shift and no problems!’ says John. Short and sweet.

Gwynne makes a note, slams the book shut, gets up, flicks his ponytail with his hand and then indicates he is leaving.

‘OK Wyatt, Ted will be here any minute. Things are pretty quiet up here, so we’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you’ll have a good first night!’ With that John departs and I am standing in the office on my own.

The hum I heard when I first arrived seems to have dissipated. No point in mucking about, I think to myself, I might as well get out and meet the boys. I can’t see anyone from in here. I step out of the office, left or, right? Left, I take a couple of steps down a short corridor and turn right.

The dormitory is murky, the only light is coming from the doorway where I stand and another at the far end of the room. I notice there are no actual doors, just the frames which they once occupied. I can make out three petitioned areas on both sides of the room. At the end of each are side by side wardrobes. This creates a nook for the bed and a pseudo corridor up the middle. In the first of the alcoves, there are two beds, both with obviously disturbed bedding and both without boys. I look across the aisle and see the same is true in the alcove opposite. Beds but no boys. Even a newbie can work out that something is wrong with this picture.

I’m about to move on to the next partition when all of a sudden there’s a loud bang. It is magnified by the silence of a moment before. I nearly jump out of my skin. The door of the wardrobe nearest me bursts open and a diminutive figure leaps out in front of me.

‘Heyaaaaah,’ he screams, adopting a karate-like stance with his hands and arms ready to strike a new and somewhat bewildered night staffer. He advances at pace towards me. He would almost be in my face, that is if he were a head taller.

‘Heyaaaaaaaah…ah…ah…aaaah.’ He gives it a little more emphasis and enthusiasm now. Over my initial shock which I hope none of the boys saw, I suppress an immediate thought that I might have to defend myself against this midget attacker. More banging and crashing. Other boys are leaping out of wardrobes and emerging from behind the partitions. Now the room is filled with a cacophony of noise, karate grunts, raucous laughter and other sounds I am unable to distinguish in the moment. I sense there are kids in the doorway behind me and I see some peering through the other entrance at the end of the dorm. Surprise party! They have been waiting for me to come into the room. Surrounded now, I am acutely mindful of my isolation. I keep my eyes focused on the midget ninja while retaining an awareness of the others in my peripheral vision, and follow my instincts.

‘Who are you?’ I ask a bit lamely. It’s as if I have flicked a switch and turned off the party. Everything becomes still and silence now reigns again. The room is filled with anticipation.

‘I’m Hatch, who are you?’ says the karate kid.

‘Hello, Hatch. I’m Wyatt, the new night attendant. Aren’t you all supposed to be in bed?’ I’m measured in my response, polite and quiet, but also trying to exude an air of confidence and authority.

‘Oh hear that?’ he asks the assembled multitude, waving a limp wrist in my direction, ‘Very la… de… dah… de… dah. Oh and look, he’s got a girlie earring in his ear. We know what you’re here for… Wyatt.’ He spits out my name. ‘Wyatt… that’s like a cowboy name, right? You don’t look much like a cowboy to me, where’s yah hat? You sound more like a nob, a gaybo nob. Are you a gaybo cowboy nob Wyatt?’ The boys, who have gathered around now, chortle and snigger and a couple of other voices chime in, repeating the question. Hatch appears pleased with his challenge and the support from the other boys. He seems to grow a bit taller.

‘Well Hatch, I can’t help sounding educated, something that’s worth a try when you get the chance.’ I am aware I am being sarcastic, I better watch that. Right at this moment, I’m Wyatt the night attendant. Anything else I might be shouldn’t matter to you.’ I say bluntly. ‘Although… I have got a horse tethered up out the front,’ I add trying to take a more conciliatory tone.

Silence. Not the response I’d hoped to engender.

As I stand caught in the moment and wondering what to do next, a rather large fellow approximately my height but more solidly built, steps towards me, ‘You on your own?’ he asks although it may be more of a statement.

I can see he’s missing one of his front teeth. His face is sufficiently pale that I can tell it’s covered in pimples even in the relative darkness. Perhaps a stranger to facial cleaning products.

I feel a twinge of vulnerability because he’s not wrong, I am on my own. ‘And you are?’

‘Bentley Breezer. I’m in charge around here.’ This causes a bit of guffawing from some of the boys. I guess this is another challenge, slightly more concerning than the one from the midget ninja.

‘I’m sorry Bentley, they didn’t mention that when I arrived. I’ll be sure to check with my colleague Brian when he gets up here, should be any minute now.’

‘Brian? You mean Ted. He isn’t coming in today, that’s what I heard. No worries, I’ll help you out tonight. I know how to keep this bunch of dickheads in shape.’ He reaches over and cuffs Hatch around the back of his head. Hatch gives him the finger.

‘Thanks, Bentley, I appreciate the generous offer, but I don’t think I’ll be taking you up on it. Now if you don’t mind…or even if you do, I think it’s time all of you got back into your beds.’

‘Now if you don’t mind, la… de… da…de… dah…ah…ah!’ Hatch has come back to life but no one seems interested in his attempt to stir things further.

As quickly as they gathered, the boys move away and the chatter starts up again. A few go back to running around, doing karate kicks, some pushing and shoving each other. Thank god for short attention spans! But I have not exerted any control. Bentley remains standing there looking at me with a strange grin on his face. He’s not going anywhere.

Impasse. What to do next?

I am saved from answering the question when we are all taken by surprise. A booming voice fills the room, ‘What’s going on in here then!’

Most of the boys shoot off to, what I assume, are their allotted dorms. However several resume shoving each other and I’m distracted watching them.

‘That’ll be enough of that,’ says the voice. One of the boys looks up and steps out of the tussle. ‘Into your dorm Hoani, you know you shouldn’t be in here. Aaron, you shouldn’t be in here either, get back to your dorm.’ The voice is not as loud now but it still has presence and authority. As the boys disperse I turn to see the source. It’s a tall, solidly built man who nearly fills the whole of the doorway. I can’t see much else apart from the outline of a baseball cap and the silhouette of his bulky frame which further reduces the minimal light coming into the room.

‘Can you go down the hall behind you and check the boys are in their rooms and their beds!’ he directs me. ‘I’ll get the other lot in Rata settled. Meet you back in the office. I’m Brian by the way but everyone here calls me Ted.’

I do as I’m told, exit the dorm, make a couple of short turns and enter a narrow hallway. It’s about fourteen metres long, the walls are punctuated with doorways. All are shut and there’s no sign of anybody. I zigzag along opening each door as I go. The first two lead into shower and toilet areas respectively. The others, four on each side, are bedrooms. I knock before entering. Seven of the eight bedrooms have an occupant in their bed, seemingly asleep. Surprising, given only a few moments ago they were running amuck. Although I greet each one, none acknowledge me. The eighth room is empty and the bed is not made up. Blankets are folded and piled at the foot, topped with a couple of brownish stained pillows without their slips. I head back to the office passing through the partitioned dorm. I say goodnight to the kung fu boys. Everyone’s in bed and no one responds.

Ted is sitting at the desk writing in a large black book. It feels like he fills half the room. Now I can see him better, I pick him to be about my age. He has a jovial face, a slight smile lingers about it as he glances up and greets me. The baseball cap is gone, now sitting on the desk. Its absence reveals close-cropped blond hair, receding on each side of his forehead. He has a beard, also blonde, short and with a tailored point below his chin. His face is ruddy, possibly from being out in tonight’s winter coolness. He’s wearing a blue and brown checked swan dry, green corduroy pants and I can just make out the heels of burgundy coloured sneakers.

I deposit myself on a metal-framed wooden chair nestled beside the desk. Ted continues to write for a minute so I look around. There’s junk cluttered everywhere and the room smells of age, decay, socks, dampness, perspiration, and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. I’ll get used to it. The walls are covered in notices and signs. The notices are busy so I will read most of those later. I read a few of the bigger signs.

‘No boys in the office!’

‘All timesheets in by Tuesday night!’

‘All boys to be in bed and settled by 9.30 pm.’

‘No boys to make phone calls after 7.30 pm.’

‘Keep this room tidy!’

Two discoloured red couches form an ‘L’ shape against the back walls. Tucked between them I recognise the neck of an electric guitar. There is barely room to squeeze between the seated Ted and the couches but I do so and lift it out. It’s a Fender Stratocaster copy. The black body is scratched and marked. Well used and a little abused, but it has all its strings, a good start. I put it back and return to my chair. Ted slams the book shut, sweeps it away from him across the desk and tosses the pen down next to it.

‘That bloody guitar! Some staff let the boys have it at night. Pacifies them, does no harm that’s what they say, but I’ll tell you what, it’s more about buying a bit of peace than anything else. And the Kung Fu movie, another brainwave, always has the same result. All the boys think they’re Bruce Lee. Great for the day team because the boys love them and it keeps them occupied all evening. Bad for the night staff, they’re all stirred up and don’t settle. Sometimes I think the staff deliberately put them on for a laugh because they know what happens afterwards,’ he muses.

Moving on without a pause, ‘I see you’ve had the full induction into the job’. He has a wry smile on his face and I detect a little cynicism in his tone. After a brief pause, he asks, his tone more serious, ‘Have you been shown around at all?’

‘I saw what I passed on the way up to this office; a dining room, the office downstairs, and now I’ve been to all the dorms.’

‘That’s it! The full induction! The rest is learning on the job!’ He’s reverted to being frivolous, but not for long. ‘Seriously, let’s make sure the boys are truly settled then I’ll give you a tour of the place. Who brought you up here?’

‘John Land. He passed on a few things about some kids, a bit about the diary and then he said you would tell me the rest.’

I repeat the messages John passed on about the boys. He’d suggested we might need to keep an eye on a new admission who might be feeling a bit intimidated. Another is a boy released from the secure area who potentially could have been a bit difficult once he returned to the main house. He’s settled so should be ok tonight. And there is a new guy admitted to the secure area who they don’t know much about. John indicated he seemed settled too but who knows what might happen during the night. I’d managed to forget all the names. Mental note to self, write names down.

‘Actually, I know about them,’ Ted says. ‘There are notes in the diary.’ He points to the black book. ‘That’s where all that sort of information is kept. Well, I’ll tell you what, you’ve been lucky and have managed to get yourself into a pretty good team, yeah, Sarge, Gwynne and Abigail. They’re solid and, out of all three teams, they’re the best to follow from our perspective. One thing about us night staff, the way the roster works, we follow them all.’ Not a perfect team obviously, I think to myself, what with the guitar and the Kung Fu movies. I wonder what the others are like, I guess I’ll find out. He continues, ‘And John Land, he’s the best of the bunch of senior social workers, so lucky for you to have got him. Was it him who interviewed you? I’d heard they did interviews a couple of weeks ago that went on for a whole day, was that you?’

‘Yeah he did, and yes it was.’ Six of us were interviewed by a five-member panel in a convoluted process that included workshops, head to head forums and playing out scenarios.’ At the time I thought it was a lot for a domestic services job that didn’t require qualifications or experience. I hadn’t even finished the whole process as I’d rushed off early to meet my childcare commitments, right in the middle of the final interview with the site manager, Mike Michelson, so I was pretty sure I’d missed my opportunity. History now, I got the job. John Land stood out from the rest of the panel because he seemed to take a particular interest in me. Now I know why, the vacant position was in his team. Also, I’d noted how he looked the most like a musician and possible kindred spirit, as opposed to the others who appeared more sporty or academic, or a combination of both. Well over six feet tall, thin in the frame, he has long shoulder-length hair, greying a little at the temples. On the day he was wearing black jeans, a brownish-green paisley shirt and pointed black boots. Tonight he’s similarly dressed, a bit of a dated look but familiar to me from my days playing music out on the local circuits. He has small round glasses too, the John Lennon sixties flower power type so often seen on posters. These days I’d have to say I’m more into black, the John Lee Hooker or George Thorogood look, although I’m still a bit of a hippie at heart.

I tell Ted I met Sarge and Abigail in the office downstairs when I arrived tonight. Abigail is a short, stocky woman who looks to be in her early thirties. She was wearing track pants and a burnt orange polo shirt. Her brown hair is short-cropped and barely reaches the collar of her shirt and she has a fringe cut just above her eyebrows. Although I wouldn’t describe her as beautiful, she is not unattractive. She was wearing no obvious makeup. The thing I noticed most was the twinkle in her eye, suggesting someone with a sense of fun. The other thing I remember noticing was the disproportionately large brown leather belt she was wearing which didn’t seem to sit naturally on her hip. From it hung a long chain drooping and looping before disappearing back into a leather pouch. A key protruded from the pouch at right angles like it might have been resisting its confinement.

Sarge was also dressed in a tracksuit, this one was blue and white. He has short hair, grey flecked throughout. My guess is he’s in his early forties. I got the vibe he’s ex-military, it was written all over him, in his bearing and the direct way he spoke. When he greeted me I almost felt I had to salute. His handshake was strong enough that I was concerned he might crush my fingers.

Gwynne, I met upstairs in the office.

Ted interrupts my brief reflections, confirming my feelings about Sarge. His real name is Terry. ‘We’ve got a few ex-military on staff and some ex-league players. They’ve been the traditional recruiting grounds since before I arrived here. Recently we’re started getting more social worker types like Abigail and Gwynne. I think the ’powers that be’ want the residences to be more professionally focused. So far so good from what I can see, particularly if you’re mainly measuring team performance. But someone needs to tell the boys we’re here to help, not to just contain them!’ I wonder what he means but before I can ask he goes on.

‘Wyatt, where did that name come from? Are you American? You don’t sound it.’

‘Nah, It’s a family name, my second name. My first name is Charles.’

‘Oh yeah, what happened to Charles, didn’t you like it?’

I explain how I was named after my father but kept getting called little Charles when I was growing up until I was bigger than him. Then they called me big Charles, or big Charlie which was worse, I didn’t go for that. The old man didn’t like being little Charlie or old Charles much either, so he started calling me Wyatt, my second name. Worked for me and him, so in the end, everyone picked up on it and it stuck.

‘All good Wyatt. Everybody calls me Ted so I get it.’ I am about to enquire about the back story regarding his name but he leaves no gap.

‘It’s been quiet for fifteen minutes, which generally means the boys are asleep. Let’s go for a walk through the dorms. Regular walkabouts are an important tool in our kitbag. You have to keep an eye on what’s going on and you’re more likely to keep the kids in their beds if they poke their heads out and you’re just there, or they hear you coming. Nip the problem in the bud I say.’

I’m not sure what it is about Ted but I take an immediate liking to him. Maybe it’s his confidence or his easy manner… something connects.

Chapter 2

Wyatt Takes a Tour

Ted gets up from the desk and manoeuvres past me out of the office. I follow and as I step outside he pulls the door shut, sorts a key from the bunch attached to his belt, and locks up.

‘We never, ever leave the office unlocked, even in an emergency,’ he says in a matter of fact tone. ‘That’s what you’ve got the large bunch of keys for, locking things and unlocking things.’

Before I came upstairs John made me sign for mine. Now secured in a pouch and belt around my waist, they feel cumbersome and a little foreign but hopefully look more at home than Abigail’s did.

‘Someone will almost certainly go in there. When they do, something will be pilfered or broken. This time it was a couple of marker pens. Fortunately, I got them. Aaron Finch took the opportunity to grab them while you were otherwise occupied by the ninja warriors. He was just coming out of the office as I came up the stairs. Caught him red-handed. Waste of time and energy for a few pens, but he’s not in here because he makes good decisions. It could have been worse. If he had the time he could have looked at the diary or ripped out a couple of pages. These kids can get up to anything and sometimes for no obvious reason. It’s not always silly stuff like that, some boys are cunning. Word of warning for you, be careful with them all… and more careful with some than others.’

‘Lesson one for me,’ I acknowledge Ted’s experience.

‘Yeah, well actually, it’s lesson three. Lesson one is don’t let the day staff go off and leave you alone. You need to stand your ground on that or they’ll do it all the time. At the end of their shift, they just want to get out of here. It’s understandable but not the agreed process. You shouldn’t be left on your own… period!… even more so on your first day. Lesson two is ’settled’ should mean in bed, if not asleep, at a minimum the place should be quiet…’ I sense a little weariness in his tone like this is a battle he has fought before.

‘Any rate let’s get on with what does happen and not spend too much time on what doesn’t… for now.’ He explains that for sleeping purposes the kids are split into three dorms, all named after native trees. The younger ones, twelve and thirteen-year-olds mainly, the most vulnerable, are down in Kauri. The older ones, in Rata, are mostly sixteen-year-olds, although the number of older boys is trending upward at the moment. Tonight there’s only one, Johnny Remus. ‘He’ll be gone soon, off to Corrective Training, everyone refers to it as C.T., a programme for juveniles run by the Prison Service,’ Ted says, ‘He’s done his chips in our system and he appears in the District Court on Wednesday for sentencing. He’ll probably try and take off before then. He’s not a ’bad apple’ just a persistent offender. Burgs and stealing cars mainly. His brother’s here too, younger but he’s going the same way. There’s another brother as well, currently in prison. Lovely family, all following in dad’s footsteps doing the family business.’

As we wander Ted continues to talk. We re-enter the dorm where I encountered the Kung Fu kids. Ted picks up immediately. ‘This dormitory is named Rimu and it holds all those who are not in Kauri or Rata.’ The boys, if they’re awake, ignore us as we pass through.

Once through Rimu, we enter a short hallway. Ted points out a door at the end of the landing and then to a small red box with a glass front covering a round red button positioned halfway along the hallway. ‘Fire door and fire alarm! Fire doors are always locked so we need to open them in the event of a fire. Dumb putting the alarm there, too accessible, it should be in the office.’ I wonder at this comment but there’s a lot of information coming my way. I don’t dwell on it. We turn left again.

We are now in Kauri, home of the younger boys. This is the only area where there are separate bedrooms. Ted is blunt, ‘This is a safety move, it keeps these young ones away from the older boys at night and all the risks that can come with mixing them.’ He doesn’t elaborate but I get the picture.

He tells me some of the younger boys are transitioning to or from Hokio Beach in Levin, one of the county’s residences that take younger children. There’s another residence in Levin too, Kohitere, which takes the older kids. Stanmore houses boys going to both these and transitioning back into the South Island. Sometimes boys from other residences around the country are admitted here if they’re full. This residence is supposed to be for short term placements however Ted indicates there seem to be increasing numbers of ‘regulars’ getting stuck here for longer. A couple of boys are long-termers and have been here for over six months.

He shows me the showers and the toilets. There are three of each. ‘That’s all the showers we have in this building but there are other toilets downstairs.’ I am enlightened. Now we are at the end of the hall next to a second fire door. Looking through it I can see a house next to the property. There is an ‘L’ shaped fence separating the residence from the house, the second part of which extends along the back of the Stanmore Road supermarket.

‘The supermarket is a hub of activity at night, especially around the food waste bins. You’ll see for yourself. It accounts for some of the noise we hear at night, just so you know for future reference.’

I see all the fire doors are reinforced glass. Ted continues, ‘we’re required to have two fire exits up here under the fire regulations. Good thing too because this place is a fire hazard, wood everywhere, has been drying out for years. I’m surprised it hasn’t burnt down already. The boys are always smuggling cigarettes into the place… and lighters or matches. They added a sprinkler system up here when they built the Special Needs Unit a few years ago. But I’ll tell you what, the Fire Service, who come here quite a bit one way or another… as you’ll see…’ He gives me what I assume is a ‘watch this space’ nod, ‘told me it’s not much good, more like a temporary set-up than a real solution. That’s why we get pretty excited about matches and lighters. Now let’s have a look at Rata.’ He’s ramming as much information as he can into the conversation. I feel a bit overwhelmed but still appreciate it.

We walked back past the office and into an open dorm Rata, the one I caught a brief glimpse of when I arrived. Twelve boys in twelve beds, six on each side of the room. On one side there are two large sash windows which I see have been permanently screwed shut … not additional fire exits then! They match a similar window I noticed in the stairwell.

‘This is the big boy’s area. Not a great arrangement because there are no partitions and the older boys are much harder to settle. And of course, bedtime here is mostly way before they’d go to sleep normally out in the real world. Some are used to living more at night than during the day, for obvious reasons. As you can see though, they’re bye-byes for the night except for Aaron over there. Goodnight Aaron.’ A boy lifts his head and gives a little nod of acknowledgement.

‘Rata’s right next to our office so at least we can easily keep an ear on them, although as you have probably worked out already, you can’t see into any of the dorms from there. Some genius thought through the surveillance part!’ he scoffs. ‘Obviously, no one asked the night staff what they needed. Water under the bridge now.’

We head back to the office and sit down, him at the desk, me on the chair next to it. He makes a couple of notes in the black book.

‘First point, everything gets recorded in here. This is the Daily Log. Every time I do a check, I write down what I see and the time I made it. A check, by the way, means spot the real body, an arm, a leg, their head, and not just a lump in the bed.’

‘That must disturb the boys. Does it cause problems?’ I ask.

‘Can do, although most of the time it’s pretty easy to see something. It’s worse for the boys in Kauri because you have to open the door and let the light in. Normally I just shine my torch on the end of the bed and work up from there, or on the wall above the boy’s head. It can still disturb them. However, it has to be done. We’re supposed to do checks on or about every twenty minutes. Most often we can manage to, not all the time though because things happen, but I try to keep to schedule as best I can.’

Ted indicates the diary is like a running log of events. As well as the client checks, all incoming and outgoing phone calls, perimeter checks, any movements by the boys, and even toilet stops. Everything, basically if it happened, or even if you think it happened, write it down! There are other books as well but they’re not upstairs. Ted says he